"Well, mother, what is it?"
"Lord Canning wants to marry Indy?"
"Does he?" asked Stillwater, composedly. "Too bad—too bad."
His wife sighed heavily, and was on the point of leaving them, when Lord Canning took her hand, looking sympathetically into her eyes. "Why not stay and help me out?"
"Oh, I really must go—Indy's waiting for me. I never let anyone do anything for her. I always lay out her dresses, and brush her hair, and wait on her. She gets cross if I don't—and I love to do it."
"You don't approve of me, Mrs. Stillwater?"
"I do," she answered, tremulously. "I like you very much—you're such a nice, modest man for your position. Will you—" she hesitated, he still held her hand, looking inquiringly into her eyes, "will you wait a while and think it over before you ask Indy?"
"I have waited and thought it over well," replied Lord Canning, in a very decided tone. "I know this is very unusual, but, for the life of me, I couldn't ask a young woman to marry me until I was sure I would be acceptable to her parents."
"You are, you are," assured Mrs. Stillwater, quickly, "but it will be a great trial to lose her—that's what I was thinking of—only that." The tears rushed to her eyes. She turned and mounted the stairs, hastily.
"Mother is naturally upset when she thinks of Indy getting married," said Stillwater, who had been gravely listening.